


Doll Boy

by mccafejeffery



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Josh in a dress, this is a really old oneshot I found on my computer...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 09:24:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17916149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mccafejeffery/pseuds/mccafejeffery





	Doll Boy

Every morning he woke up tangled in the same pastel pink sheets. The cotton was smooth, theta hem stained with blotchy, dark patches of dried tears. His skull was heavy, weighing down his broad shoulders. Soft, peachy flesh was porcelain smooth. He could break with the slight. Press of a nail. Shimmering pink smeared his eyelids. The weight of clouds fell on his heaving chest. It was bubbly, speaking to his aching shoulder blades. With heavy, pink eyelids, he pulled up his frame, almond eyes glued to the wilting sunflowers carelessly dropped in a stark white vase. The excessive amount of crying in his joints rose as he moved. He ran cracked fingers through his curls of brown.

The frame to his twin sized mattress was rubbed matte, once a glittering metallic metal. His sheets were a solid blushing pink. Thick, scalloped ribbon lined the edges. The mattress itself was rotting. Chunks of foam and flimsy, lint covered fabric were pulled out over the years. Dark oak was nailed below his wiggling toes. It was chilled. Frost dusted the outer glass of the wood framed window. An ice blue. Like a cold, unforgiving heart. The dresser pushed up against the frame was a similar wood to the flooring. It was piled in a thick layer of pooling dest. We traveled to it on shaking feet. 

The dress he pulled out was a cloudy spring yellow. His suitor chose it and favored it. Lace was sewn onto the upper bodice. He thought it did not sit right on his square bones. Frills cascaded on the bottom of the skirt. It ended just above his knees. A small bow was placed in the middle of the bodice, of the same dulled color. He dressed himself, hands smoothing down the fabric rubbing against his hips. He spun on the balls of his feet, heels ghosting above the hard wood. He continued the circular motion twice more, falling out of the turn with pointed toes. 

The creaking steps moaned under his light feet as he shuffled down the unfinished wood.It was a dull, chilling grey, just like the rest of the house. Every wall was bare. No pictures of smiling or laughing faces or playing animals. Just deep cracks and bruises of the past forms that roamed the house that they called their own. His dainty fingers pulled on the ribbonlike straps holding up his swaying dress.

Melodic hums came from the china stocked kitchen. Tyler stood in his funeral dark presence, placing fresh, blooming sunflowers in a baby blue, flower printed vase. He leaned of the circular dining table as he did so. Stripped sleeves crinkling. The shelves to his left were stocked again with clear, screw lid jars labeled “tears”. A date under each. Each jar was no more than a fourth full with the clear liquid. Tyler bled a deeper red than anyone.

“Good morning, flower. Did sleep treat you to sweets?” He purred, turning to face the dolled up boy. He smiled, flushed lips curving. 

“I was floating,” The pastel boy replied, playing with the straps of his dress, “and then I fell down. The dark abyss with clawing hands.” His glassy doe eyes shifted down to the diner checkered tile. Sturdy hands pushed down on his shoulders, ac careful reassurance. “The darkness never stops. It’s current. Lurking and pulling at the back of my skull each sleep.”

“Quiet, flower. It’s only a oil slicked idea, a vivid screeched eyes with the tan, snapshot of the mind.” Tyler’s hot, ghostly breath slammed into Josh’s pale ears, a soft moan. He was hungry. 

“Another day. Another day where the flowers of my psyche are not scattered like leaves blown in a park. Please.” Josh locked narrowed eyes like a relaxed face of Tyler. Understanding. 

“I understand your fear, your screaming conscious. It pulls at your frights and pulls out dead fears from their tattered coffins.”

“How do you understand if you are not plagued with the same gothic sequence hook words? The looming toothy smiles of darkness? How, Tyler! How?” His voice rose invasion, heart heating his body, pumping, heated color, into his colorless face. 

“Fear and horrors are not always behind the skin. They can be demons around us, waiting fir their prey. Sometimes I am the pray, others I am not.” The pointed the pointed words shook Josh off of his his high pedestal. Head spinning, Josh pulled out the chair next to Tyler’s form. He sat with hands in his lap. His dress hugged his ribcage perfectly. Tyler smirked.

“You are a bright, tall flower of the sun. More vibrant than the rest of the field.” His softened flesh of his finger pushed up Josh’s dropping chin. Rosy blush spread over the boy’s face. He felt perfect. 

“And you, Tyler,” The boy began in a small, slipping voice, “You are the glittering orb that grew me with care and happiness. Thank you.”

Tyler nodded and left Josh’s side. He took an empty jar from the wall of shelves to his left. He picked up the fading marker and wrote, “tears” in lowercase, curvy letters, the date scrawled beneath it. The dark colored boy slid the jar with friction across the small table to Josh. “Let every forgotten film in that mid of yours out, my flower.” Tyler went to the sink, beginning to clean china carefully. 

Josh unscrewed the sliver top with soft motions and metallic clicks. His honey orbs were hidden when he brought the jar up to his eye. His mouth curved down as his body shook, night terrors leaving his cloudy, sleepy mind in the form of sliding, sparkling tears.


End file.
